Shatter (3 page)

“Stay away, Mitch, or I’ll open the door.” She kept a grasp on the handle, though she had no intension of releasing Dex.

“Who the hell are you?” He jammed his hands on his hips. “You’re acting like a goddamned Russian spy.”

The taunt created a dull, dirty ache in her chest, as if she’d been stabbed with a rusted knife. But even she was having a hard time not thinking of herself as Halina since he’d shown up. As the deceitful Russian who’d come from a murky past.

She held up a closed fist. Dex’s bark ceased immediately. A few residual mewls rolled out of his throat before he went completely quiet and still. He remained sitting tall in the backseat, his gaze burning into Mitch through the slobber-smeared rear window.

“I don’t know what to think about you anymore,” Mitch said. “All the lies. The hiding. The secrets. Everything that happened back then. Everything that’s happening now. I swear to God, Halina, I’m seriously reaching here. I’ve seen my share of crazy shit and I’ve discovered my mind can bend in ways I used to think would make it break, but you”—he tossed his hands in the air—“I don’t get.”

Heather glanced at the neighbor’s windows. “Shh. You’re going to wake the whole damn neighborhood.”

“Your dog has already done that, or did you miss the whole Cujo scene?”

“You don’t have to get me.” She spoke slow and steady in hopes of holding herself together. “And I don’t have time to explain myself to you.”

She turned for the car. In her mind, she was already out the driveway, on the freeway, headed toward the storage unit. She’d have lots of time to get this mess straight in her head once she was on the road.

“Halina.” The hard edge to Mitch’s voice stopped her from pulling the door open. “I know you were a scientist for the Department of Defense when you told me you were working for Georgetown Medical Center. I know you worked under Gil Schaeffer at DARPA before he became a senator.”

Regret stabbed her chest, but it was nothing compared to the fear taking over, making her shake. Overwhelming her like it had in that last month with Mitch, when she’d made all those drastic decisions. Memories she’d learned to suppress rose to the surface and she was suddenly reliving the nightmare of working at DARPA. The night closed in, pressing on her lungs, making it hard to breathe.

“Mitch. It’s over. We can’t go back. None of that matters now. You have to stay away from me.”

“Staying away stopped working about a year ago. Whoever you’re hiding from up here isn’t just after you. They’re after me and my sister and an entire group of firefighters who have become my friends. A group of firefighters who were exposed to classified chemicals in a government warehouse fire. Chemicals we’ve traced back to Schaeffer and DARPA during your time working there.”

The chill air cut through Heather’s clothes. Her brain worked crazily to put all this information into the framework of what she knew, which, up to this moment, she’d believed had been everything.

“I . . .” She was lost. Blind. Dropped into a black hole, feeling for an exit. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do we. What we do know is that with Rostov and Gorin dead, Schaeffer will be coming for you. You’re the last of the three scientists working on his project left alive now, Hali. You may have lived here peacefully for a while, but he needs you to finish it.”

No, he needed her research—not
her
. And he wanted even more than that. He wanted the only leverage she had to keep Mitch safe. “I wasn’t involved with their project, but I do need to leave.”

“Don’t give me that shit,” Mitch yelled. “And you’d better not try serving it up to Schaeffer either. He’s not a forgiving man.”

“My lifestyle is a testament to Schaeffer’s lack of mercy, Mitch.”

“And I want more answers, Halina. For
me
. I want to know why you lied. I want to know why you walked away seven years ago. I want to finally be able to put you behind me.”

A sound staggered from her throat. Her chest ached as if her trainer, Tommy, had suckered her with a roundhouse. Tears burned her eyes. Anger and pain and loss knotted into something explosive.

“Now,
that
I can help you with.” She dragged in air. Pushed it out. “Good-bye, Mitch.”

Halina turned away. A split second before she pulled the car’s handle, a shadow moved in the corner of her eye. She turned her head, caught the reflection of something silver near the garage door. It flashed in her eyes then cleared, leaving the sight of a metal semiauto aimed at her head.

Instinctively, she pivoted toward it. Toward the man holding it. A stranger. Late forties, Caucasian, rugged facial features, dressed in all black including black gloves and black knit cap. His crisp, bright blue eyes had a cold calculating quality that made Halina’s skin chill.

“Don’t open that door, Beloi.” His voice was low, commanding. But it was the use of her given last name, a name she’d run from for decades, that tugged her dark side forward. “Or the dog dies before he reaches the ground.”

Dex’s snarl rolled over her from behind, raising the hair on the back of her neck. Every one of her senses rose to the forefront. Every one of her skills crowded into her head, pushing and shoving for the lead.

“There are just too many players in this mess.” Mitch’s arrogant, condescending voice startled Halina. She’d completely forgotten he was standing only yards away. “I can’t keep all you idiots straight. Now,
who
the fuck are
you
?”

“Don’t move, Foster.” The stranger’s gaze never left Halina and an ironic smile twisted his mouth higher on one side. “What an asshole, huh? Comes here after years of screwing around and starts making accusations and issuing orders. Then, just to twist the knife, he tells you he wants to put you behind him?” The man tipped his head, narrowed his eyes, and softened his voice. “You want me to put a bullet in his brain for you, Beloi?”

The chill along Halina’s skin turned icy and slid deeper. She darted a look to her left, found the stranger holding a second weapon on Mitch.

A double-fisted shooter? Tommy had never trained her to defend against this. Against every other freaking unearthly scenario—but no, not this.

Her mind shifted between the weapons, gauged their distance, the shooter’s height, his aim. For a split second, she got into his head, considered his agenda, his goal, his focus.

She didn’t want to do this. But she didn’t have a choice, did she?

Dex had started barking again, scratching and biting at the window, trying to break free of the glass.

“Who are you?”
she demanded.

“Just what I was going to ask,” Mitch said. “Last I heard, Schaeffer was brain-dead. So who the fuck sent you?”

Halina’s thoughts slipped off her attack strategy. Her gaze darted toward Mitch. “Brain-dead?”

The gunman laughed, his bright eyes sliding toward Mitch for less than a second. “You’re so deep in the doghouse, dude. You probably want to shut your mouth now.” Then to Halina, “He’s had all this time to find you, but he shows up now, when you’re the only one left. The key to a decade-long, multibillion-dollar project.

“Think about where he’s been all this time, Beloi. Think about what he’s been doing. And with whom. Then he shows up,
poof
. ‘You’d better do this. You’d better not do that. And while I’m at it, I want to make sure I can forget about you for good.’ What. A. Cocksucker.

“Who is he to treat you like this is your fault? He’s fighting for himself, Beloi. Don’t think he won’t leave your ass in the dust when he gets what he wants, kid.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Mitch’s raspy warning grated over Halina’s skin. She cast an uncertain glance toward him. His face was pale, his eyes wide in distress. In
fear.
This mysterious attacker knew a hell of a lot of secrets—both hers and, evidently, Mitch’s.

His gaze darted to her. “You
know
I thought you went back to Russia. You
know
I—”

“Don’t.” Halina was shivering—with cold, with insecurity, with fear. She didn’t know who her greatest threat was anymore. She turned back to the gunman. “
Who
are you?”

His mouth tipped in a knowing smile. “Sweetheart, I’m the new player in this game. Schaeffer is old news. All I need is the genetic research you took when you left DARPA. Then you can come with me, join a winning team for a change, live the life you deserve after all your hard work. Or I can go away and leave you with this pathetic loser to hash out all those nasty secrets from your past. It’s up to you.”

“If you expect us to believe you’re just going to let us go,” Mitch said, “you’ve been watching too much
Hawaii Five-O
.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you believe, Foster.” To Halina he said, “Nothing you or Foster can do will damage my plans. Everything is already in motion—way far away. You, on the other hand, can work miracles to enhance it. Either way, I’m solid, just behind schedule without your research. Foster is all drama.”

“Halina . . .” Mitch said from between clenched teeth, his voice filled with warning.

She didn’t look at him. “If I give you the research, you’ll leave us alone?”

“Halina,
don’t
.” Mitch stepped forward.

“Stop, Foster,” the gunman said without removing his gaze from Halina’s face. “Yes, Beloi. You give me the research and I’ll leave you and Foster alone. This doesn’t have to be difficult.”

Halina shifted closer to the gunman. She could take the weapon pointed at her forehead. Ten seconds and she’d have control over the military-style Beretta. Fifteen and the attacker would have a broken finger. Twenty, a broken nose.

But his other arm was extended well out of her reach, the weapon pointed steadily at Mitch’s chest. And she didn’t know how to get one weapon without triggering the other.

“It’s in the house,” she said. “In a safe.”

“Hands, Foster.
Hands
.” The gunman’s warning made her dart a look toward Mitch. He lifted a hand from behind his body, where he’d been reaching for something. “If I have to warn you again, it will be with a bullet.” Then to Halina, “Your boyfriend and your dog are the most annoying creatures I’ve ever run across.”

“Let Mitch take the dog and go. I’ll get you the research from the house.” Where she knew every inch of every room. Where she had built-in traps. Where she could take this man down, knock him out, and restrain him.

“Hell no,” Mitch said. “I’m not getting near Cujo.”

The gunman laughed and turned his head toward Mitch.

Get close. Take control.
Tommy’s commands whispered in her head.

Halina stepped in, grabbed the gunman’s wrist in one hand, the muzzle of the weapon in the other. He immediately resisted, his muscles tensing. She used his rigid arm to pivot his body away from Mitch. Leaned on his wrist, shoved his arm. Underhand grab, twist, flip.

The gunman screamed. Dex went insane inside the car. Halina’s stomach tweaked at the crack of bone. But she didn’t have time to dwell. She gripped the hand trapped in the weapon by a broken finger and yanked his arm down, pulling his face into her thrusting knee.

Mitch came into her peripheral vision, crouched, ready to jump in.

“Stay out of it,”
she warned. He’d mess up her moves, her rhythm, her plans.

The gunman jerked backward, but found his hand still locked in the gun. “You bitch!”

Halina shot a kick to his balls, but he evaded. Swung his free arm and slammed her temple with the other weapon.

Fire split her skull. She stumbled sideways, but kept hold of his injured hand. Something pulled at the man from the other direction, jerking his hand in the weapon and giving Halina the break she needed to gain her feet. He screamed. Almost went down on his knees. But didn’t. His boot rammed her hip. “You
fucking bitch
.”

She hit the ground and used her weight and momentum to pull him down with her. Caught sight of Mitch behind the gunman. Terror etched on his face.

She ignored him. She had this.

She twisted the gunman’s injured hand, bent it back, and flipped him. Instead of giving Halina that shocked second to regroup and start a ground attack, the gunman immediately sat forward, his good hand swinging toward her head. Halina grabbed it. Her energy dipped. She had to end this fast, while she still could.

She pushed his arms wide. Tucked her chin. Used her legs to thrust her body upward. The crown of her head rammed his face. The sounds of impact—bone and flesh, the man’s grunt—registered a split second before pain exploded in her own brain. Ricocheted beneath her skull. And her world blinked out.

 

Halina’s head swam back to consciousness. She was sitting upright, but not by her own strength. Something supported her. She lifted her head to assess the threat, and pain tore across her skull. Her vision blurred. Lights swirled into five-pointed stars.

“Halina . . .” Her name came to her from a distance, muffled and wobbly. “Halina . . .”

She blinked, refocused. Strong arms wrapped her waist. Dex’s fierce bark stabbed through the dark. Her situation came back in a rush. She tensed and looked down. The gunman lay unconscious beneath her, his face spattered with blood, lips torn open. Her stomach kicked. She gagged and leaned sideways, pulled out of the hold from behind and tried to crawl off, but lost her balance.

She tilted toward the pavement, but never connected. Someone’s arms snatched her up again, pulled her to her feet. A waterfall filled her ears. She twisted, struggled. Fisted her hands and flung them backward, beating off whatever restricted her.